


Scents and Sensibility

by HQ_Wingster



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 19th Century, Alpha Katsuki Yuuri, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Character Interpretation, Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Character Study, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Family Drama, M/M, Omega Verse, Omega Victor Nikiforov, Parody, Plans For The Future, Scents & Smells, Slow Burn, Social Commentary, Social Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-01-27 00:11:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12569316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HQ_Wingster/pseuds/HQ_Wingster
Summary: On the eve of the twenty-third birthday, Mr. and Mrs. Nikiforov held a competition for their son’s hand in marriage. If within four years, an individual was able to discern the scents of over a hundred and three vials, the victor would have their blessings. However, if their son, Viktor Nikiforov, was the first to distinguish the scents, he can live to see twenty-eight as a free man.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> thank you @possiblyplatypus for the title pun!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +this was originally a parody i did to vent my frustration about 19th century fic  
> +this is a parody fic about love, marriage, and just whatever  
> +and i’m trying to be comfortable with writing omegaverse again  
> +this is my first time writing yuuri as an alpha. I’m so used to him being a beta  
> +is every chapter going to be 2 pages? I don’t know.  
> +is marriage end game? pshhhh, it’s the journey; not the destination

Perhaps there was nothing more enjoyable with wine and good food than fine company in the Nikiforov estate. On the eve of their son’s twenty-eighth-- _mind you, it took twenty-seven to get this far--_ birthday, Mr. and Mrs. Nikiforov were more than just gracious hosts for an ordinary party. As ordinary as the Nikiforov estate was willing to go after years of preparation from all the staff: from the gardener, to the cooks, to the butlers and maids, and to the fancy wine-taster from the brooks and canals of Florence, Italy-- _along with his twin sister, and the Nikiforovs were happy that she didn’t barge through the front door with a gale riding upon her shoulders._ No preparation was enough for the Nikiforovs’ little boy, though “little” wasn’t an appropriate word since Viktor was nearing his thirties and his hair was a soft platinum plume. Not from age or ill, but from the art of sniffing and genetic drawstrings that aided the full silver covering his scalp.

For on the eve of Viktor Nikiforov’s twenty-eighth birthday, he had come closer to being a master than what his parents ever hoped for. Plucking a vial amongst the dozens laid across the linen tables, Viktor twisted the clasp and inhaled briefly before jotting his answer on slips of paper that he had gathered for the evening. Eighty-seven slips used within the first two hours, and Viktor had a few more before he was the champion of his mother and father’s little game. Because Viktor Nikiforov was going to see his twenty-eighth birthday as a free man. Not bound by a ring, nor laced with red string because of marriage.

But truth be told, it was almost too late for an Omega like him to marry, and the party guests graciously voiced their opinions loud enough for Viktor to hear when they were sure he was busy in his own little world.

What is it with young individuals trying to make a name in such a cumberground sort of world? Let them breathe, taste, and pleasure what falls beyond their reach before thrusting any sentiments of love and marriage to deter adventures that will haunt at the age of thirty-five after a good portion of youth has wilted away, much as the dayflower when it points towards night.

Viktor saw nothing wrong with the fact that he was an unmarried, yet well-bred Omega that had a year or two left on the hips before someone would suggest that he pick up his cross and join the brotherhood down the bumpkin road. And if Viktor was to marry before he finished his round of answers, it was the deepest cut of an insult so Viktor ignored the party guests’ remarks and plunged deeper into a whirlwind of vials and scents.

A hundred and three laid out and occasionally, a guest would step forward and try their luck at the game before backing out and muttering condolences to Mr. and Mrs. Nikiforov because no one would-- _not even a well-bred or a dog--_ would take Viktor’s hand in marriage at this rate. And perhaps, that dug a nail of disappointment into Viktor’s stiff composure as he buzzed from one vial to another. No challenge upon his wing, no competitor tried to prove him wrong. It was almost too easy and yet, not easy enough because if Viktor failed his part of the plan, he was to be married regardless.

Whether someone won or it was part of Viktor’s loss, marriage was more certain than death or taxes.

After ninety-seven vials, Viktor took his leave and retreated to the more normal statures of what an Omega’s life should’ve entailed. Namely: party until intoxicated with either lust or alcohol, but the only intoxication tonight was the flood of information and hazy answers floating amiss in Viktor’s mind. He brought champagne to his lips. He poured wine over his wrist, seeped into his sleeve like a shackled wound or like a rebirth after the toils of fire.

Wine was Viktor’s fire, but it stuffed his nose so he sampled a few cheeses. The floral scents tickled his fancy as he watched people march on with their lives with a purpose he didn’t have. His fingers rested against a crumb of cheese while his eyes followed every dynamic and individual that dared to pick up a vial to play along with his parents’ little game. Did four years ruin the luster of marriage? Did marrying an Omega, or even a _Viktor,_ seem arbitrary than a challenge at this point because it was clear that Viktor was going to win this little game with the remaining hours he had left. The possibility of him not getting every scent right was absurd, but there was a little voice in the back of his head that spoke more truth than dirt. And his glass heart blushed crimson when someone managed to guess ten vials in a row before backing out when they learned of Viktor’s age.

It only fueled his desire to win at this foolish affair.

Viktor brushed his locks behind his ear and went back to his practice. Picking up his next vial and writing his answer down on the slips of paper he had left. Only looking up from his work when a newcomer arrived into the company, bearing a package in the shape of an hourglass with amber perfume swished inside.

There was a new scent in the Nikiforov estate; a scent that even a master sommelier would pause at.

_“I’m here to deliver a package for Mr. Viktor Nikiforov?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +i am accepting requests for this fic so if you want to see something funny or want me to tackle a cliche, hit me up on my tumblr, @yuuris-piano  
> +this story was written with humor in mind  
> +i did laugh/smile while writing so that was a good thing  
> +this relieved a lot of stress  
> +and i got to write things that i wouldn’t normally write about  
> +that’s good freedom


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“It is a universal truth that all will be wed, but why am I here when perfume was my first love instead?” ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +43 subscribers overnight for this story. that’s INSANE. i didn’t expect that and i couldn’t believe it either. wow! XD  
> +i actually like writing in this kind of style because it’s wordy and oddly poetic; and peeps have described my style as such on some previous works so this goes full circle  
> +following the spirit of 19th century work, all titles are labeled with roman numerals  
> +you could say this is a parody for the viktorian era *cricket cricket*

The speaker was none other than  _ Chestnut,  _ one of the local perfume brewers from down the cobblestone road. Treasured in his arms was Viktor’s present, and Chestnut sat the glass down on a rounded table for all to admire. The diamond-cut fixture and the winged handle looked more like a swan with perfume in its belly than a simple container, but this was why the Nikiforovs asked for Chestnut specifically when they needed a gift for their little baby’s birthday-- _ and Viktor would like to remind that he was not a baby, despite what the audience will hear from his parents.  _ But for just this once, Viktor let his lips part into a comical ‘O’. He approached the rounded table slowly, unsure at first until he met his parents’ gaze and there was a twinkle in their eyes. Not of mischief, but of acceptance. As if they wanted to bear one more gift to their son before accepting his stance on marriage.

_ They always understood,  _ Viktor told himself and the thought fluttered warmth down to his finger tips. He ran his fingers down the winged handle and he uncorked the container. Slivers of lemon and rosebush crept from the crafted lips, blending into Viktor’s scent.

“It smells lovely on you, Mr. Nikiforov.”

Viktor glanced up, meeting Chestnut’s eyes and noticed the tinge of a smile growing on the man’s face. A simple feature, much like the simple hands that crafted something beautiful for the eve of Viktor’s twenty-eighth birthday.

“I will sign every letter with it until someone asks who was the master behind it.”

Chestnut stuttered, but it flushed pinks and oranges onto his unseeming canvas. Different shades sprung up around Chestnut’s dark fringes and under the heavy-frames of his spectacles. As if he was a bare tree blossoming Spring on a December’s eve, and Viktor realized with his mind what his heart couldn’t see. Chestnut could’ve given the perfume to a servant and the servant could’ve placed it in Viktor’s bedroom accordingly; but if Chestnut was here, Viktor averted his gaze to his mother and Mrs. Yelena Nikiforov adjusted her spectacles, a prim yet innocent smile clung to her lips when she brought wine up to them.

Before beating the horse dead, Viktor’s mother had one more trick up her sleeve. A  _ distraction  _ to test her son’s spirit, but Viktor was no stranger to a  _ distraction’s  _ desires _. _

Why, Viktor dabbed bits of handkerchief with his birthday’s perfume and wore the scent around his neck. Gently rubbing the lemon and rosebush for more than a few heads to turn, the dilation of the pupils when the eyes found a sweet to savor, but Viktor was beyond their reach. If he was to win, he wanted people to know that he did. To miss what they could’ve had, but Viktor was no object but an individual who teased and smirked ever-so slightly because surprises were what made life worth living.

“You are more like your mother than she ever wished for.” Mrs. Yelena Nikiforov lowered her wine glass before disappearing into an older crowd with her husband. Two hours before the midnight deadline ever since the eve of her son’s twenty-three, and this was a private battle that Viktor had to face for himself. Mr. Nikiforov held his wife’s hand, brushing her fingers with his own. Soft teal in his blackish eyes because he saw himself through his wife, and she saw herself through him.

On the edge of the company, Chestnut sat to himself by a frosted window. Water in one hand and a snack in the other when a servant came by to fill his needs, and Chestnut corrected the dear Beta and said,  _ “My name is Mr. Katsuki. ‘Chestnut’ is easier for the lips.” _

“Mr. Chestnut, whether your name is truly hard to pronounce or it’s something meant to be sung, you’ve done a warm service for the Nikiforov estate,” said he, the servant when he pulled back the curtains and gazed over Mr. Katsuki’s shoulders to the gentle nudge of snow falling from the Heavens. “I was afraid that young Nikiforov’s birthday would be much like the last.”

“How was last year?” Mr. Katsuki spilled water down his collar, but he mopped the mess with a handkerchief before the servant offered his own.

“Quite lovely with the waltzes and orchestra, but young Nikiforov felt no joy nor spark when he danced with hundreds of hands. And after every pause, when the musicians retuned and adjusted their seats, off he went. Drawn by the hundred and three vials laid by his parents so that he may skip marriage yet again. Not he or any could ever solve the bewilderment locked in those vials, but young Nikiforov has come a bit closer than last year and the year before. I truly believe he will win before the deadline, but this is not my place to say so.” The servant bowed his head and left Mr. Katsuki alone with his refreshments.

Mr. Katsuki sipped his water slowly. He had only heard a fraction of the story, but he was drawn to the vials; much like how Viktor came turning his head back to the scents when people tried to draw him away. But Viktor was stubborn, more stubborn than an Omega ought to be and an old bachelor at that. Far behind the rest of his peers, but that in of itself was intriguing. Mr. Katsuki wondered what persuaded Viktor to go at such lengths to avoid marriage, but it was beyond what he was supposed to question. Nonetheless, Mr. Katsuki heard a tiny voice behind his ear, whispering for him to step forward and try his hand at the game and see if he could do any better.

Alas, Mr. Katsuki stayed where he was until ten before midnight when Viktor corked his second to last vial. A decent crowd had surrounded him as he reached for another, and Viktor pulled his last slip of paper for all to see before he uncorked the final vial for his victory. There was no smell. He wafted the scent, hoping it would bat an eyelash. Nothing came up and he had nine before midnight. A ticking pocketwatch echoed in the back of Viktor’s mind.

How could he lose because of one vial? A scent that he couldn’t comprehend?

Was there no scent? Was the scent too faint? The folded cloth at the end of the vial was close enough for Viktor to reach, but the opening was too small for his fingers to grab.

How could he lose now?

_ “May I?” _

Chestnut tore from the circle and offered a hand. His spectacles clipped at the front of his vest, and the soft cinnamon dusted in his eyes softened Viktor’s own gaze. Could he reach into the veil and hold Chestnut’s hand.

“I know what I am doing.”

“Knowing what you are doing and not knowing what to do at all are two different predicaments, Mr. Nikiforov. If an answer cannot be seen with your face towards it, an answer can be found when you show your back to it.” Chestnut reached out instead.  _ “May I?” _

Five before midnight, Viktor traded Chestnut’s offer with the vial. Chestnut closed his eyes and softly breathed in the scent that had not responded to Viktor’s call. A still silence before Chestnut spoke again.

Viktor didn’t hear the words because there was a sudden change with Chestnut’s scent. He stared at Chestnut, and the Alpha made contact with him. First, with a hand on Viktor’s wrist before the fingers trailed down the wine-stained sleeve, stiffening the hairs on the back of Viktor’s neck. Second, Chestnut pulled Viktor forward. Almost grazed Viktor’s lips with a kiss from his own but instead, Chestnut spoke again and Viktor heard him.

_ “It is a universal truth that all will be wed, but why am I here when perfume was my first love instead?” _

A burly gentleman--an Alpha twice Chestnut’s girth and height--yanked the smaller by the collar of his vest and grounded him back to his place. Neither he nor his affections dared to look at Viktor before a Lady pulled a muzzle over Chestnut’s bite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +i am taking requests for this story so if you want to see me handle something for this funny parody, you can either comment below with it or tell me on my tumblr, @yuuris-piano  
> +yuuri reminds me of a chestnut, so i gave him the nickname  
> +5 points to your hogwarts house if you know which kdrama i got that nickname from  
> +we don’t see a lot of beta characters or women in omegaverses, so you’re going to see them often here in one way or another  
> +just because you see a pretty line that probably has a lot meaning to it, it wasn’t intentional
> 
> +thanks for all the support with the comments, bookmarks, shares, subscribes, kudos, and more~


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Yelena Nikiforov pays Mr. Katsuki a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +3 updates in 3 days?!?!? i'm shocked and tired too...  
> +this chapter was inspired by the suggestion "sensory couple" by the lovely @CherryTheThird  
> +originally, i thought about finishing this chapter tomorrow because it was getting late, but i prevailed!  
> +thank you for all the comments and for the continued support~  
> +i am following the 'G' rating kinda loosely
> 
> +this chapter gave me an emotional roller coaster. i'm tired...  
> +'Chestnut' is Yuuri's nickname in this work. From everyone else's p.o.v., he is 'Chestnut' until he reveals his real name  
> +I've never met Mrs. Nikiforov, but I hope I wrote her in justice

There was once an Alpha that wore a muzzle around the jaw, but those days were but a memory when Mrs. Yelena Nikiforov stepped down from her carriage. Putting her hand up when her driver hopped out from her seat to open the door, but the friendly Missus gestured that she didn’t require assistance. Not when there need be a chat between her and a certain  _ nut,  _ seven days after Viktor’s twenty-eighth birthday and chestnuts were still roasting over the fire back at the Nikiforov estate. Darkening into velvet crisps before they dropped into the fire, cracking open like an egg against the splintered wood. Was dear  _ Chestnut  _ ready for the open flames, Yelena needed to judge the Alpha’s character for herself.

Before her stood a quiet cottage on the rolling countryside, with bits of grain and tangled grass sprouting up despite the Winter’s frost. A miniature horse laid on its side, working its jaw around a mouthful hay. Slowly chewing before shaking the snow off from its mane when it heard Yelena’s footsteps. The horse neighed, an adorable little squeak warmed the frosty air and the horse’s ears wiggled back and forth. It followed Yelena to the front of the cottage, where the stone steps began up to the front door, and Yelena knocked thrice before the door opened by just a sliver and a cinnamon eye peeked out. A pale nose turned pink when Chestnut opened the door fully and invited Yelena inside, and the Alpha of Nobility seated herself in a vacant chair and Chestnut drew a chair for himself.

He slipped off his gloves and offered to serve tea, but Yelena stated that she was here for a quick order. Chestnut grabbed parchment and stood by his instruments with a listening ear.

“I need a perfume for myself.”

“The occasion?” Chestnut scribbled a few herbs down on his parchment.

“Something sweet, not spicy by any means. Something memorable, but not overwhelming for a casual sniff. Something motherly, for I fear I may not be a mother for long.” Yelena adjusted her coat just as Chestnut finished scribbling the request. Brows knitted, he asked if Yelena wanted to clarify herself with the last bit. “I am getting older; there is no truth that says I’ll find myself any younger.” She smiled and the warmth softened her features. Her eyes grew more rounded, almost doe-like as if a baby was cradled in her arms and cooing while batting her locks with a squishy palm.

“You are not- _ -what?” _ Chestnut took a guess. “Five and forty?”

Yelena snorted. A wheeze of a laugh that resonated in the back of her throat, and too rough for a Lady. But in all the visits that Yelena had taken throughout the years, Chestnut couldn’t remember a single moment where Yelena acted like a  _ proper  _ Lady.

Yelena had the class and stature of a powerful Alpha, but behind the facade sat a woman who had more than a small taste of eccentricness stitched to her name. She curled her pearly locks with a finger as she watched Chestnut begin his work. Plucking containers and herbs from his messy shelves, and Chestnut did ask again if Yelena wanted some tea if she was going to stay.

The tea nor the perfume were going to take long, but Chestnut had to remember his place. Even if Yelena attempted to draw back the social curtain, Chestnut was still a servant willing to beg on his knees in the presence of a Lady of Nobility. Begging because he caught Yelena’s scent.

Unaware of how it controlled and subdued her company, Yelena emitted more with every flick of her head until she saw the tremble in Chestnut’s fingers when he slid a knife over a vanilla stalk.

“Does my scent upset you?”

“It reminds of whom this perfume is meant to compliment.” Chestnut slid his knife down Jasmine petals.

Yelena leaned forward so that her seat could creak. “Your scent speaks otherwise.”

Chestnut steadied his hand before slicing another petal. “Mrs. Nikiforov, nothing surprises you anymore.” It took a moment before he lifted his gaze.

“Indeed.” Yelena swished one leg over the other. “I may be blind to what I have, but I am certainly not blind to yours.” She rested her chin over her fingers. “Isn’t that why you pursued the world of scents?”

“Perfume is what we smell when we cannot smell ourselves, Mrs. Nikiforov.” Chestnut excused himself, adjusting his glasses when he came to his kitchen and poured himself a cup of tea. The rattling glass hid nothing.

“Ah, then you must recognize this.” Yelena pulled a cloth from inside her coat and waved it around. Chestnut swung his back away from Yelena, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Do you know who this is?”

“It’s a cloth--”

Yelena’s voice dropped to a whisper.  _ “Do you know who this is?” _

Chestnut licked his lips. Not painfully slow, but a quick flick for his dry mouth. “Your son.”

“What was his name again?” Yelena rolled back her shoulders, tilting her head to the side as bangs spilled off from her shoulders. “It was at the tip of my tongue.”

Chestnut hid his hands behind his back.  _ “Viktor.” _

Yelena clapped her hands, as if Chestnut was a little boy that figured out that two plus two was indeed two twos. “My son,  _ Viktor,  _ is no longer gray about marriage. I might see spots of black growing on his head now. No need to worry because marriage has passed. And marriage is about love than sporting a man and a woman, a woman and a woman, a man and a man, or an individual with an individual because of fortune and good looks. Do I ring true or nay?”

Chestnut strolled back to his workspace. “Only horses neigh, Mrs. Nikiforov.”

“I know they do, and the little one outside is too endear to be out in the snow. I shall knit a blanket at once, but please answer me this.” Yelena slouched back in her seat. “I will speak, not as a mother. Will that bother you?”

Yelena’s scent coiled around Chestnut’s neck. “Not at all.”

_ “What affections do you hold towards Viktor?” _

Chestnut’s words were lost at the tip of his tongue.

_ “Are they good affections, bad affections, what kind of affections? The kind of affections that tingle the brain, or has a knot stained your rosy palms as a gentleman?”  _ Yelena spoke as if she was commenting about the weather, but her eyes narrowed so sharply that if she didn’t hear the answer she wanted to hear, there would be murder and it would be murder most foul.

Chestnut instinctively hid his lower region behind his table. “Amiable affections, Mrs. Nikiforov.” He picked up his knife. “I assure you.”

“Amiable, in which you’re speaking from your mind, your heart, or to a certain throbbing--?”

“I wish you, your son, and your estate no harm.” Chestnut lowered his head. Breath hitched at the back of his throat, and his vision blurred when he gazed down at his feet. So close to Death but then, Yelena’s scent faded away. The noose loosened from Chestnut’s neck, and he was able to breathe once again.

“I have a proposition.” Half of Yelena’s face hidden behind simple hands, simple hands capable of doing much more than simple things. “Please be Viktor’s m-- _ friend.”  _ She caught herself, and the brooding Alpha that toyed with Chestnut crept back into her cage and a dear mother emerged with more gray in her hair.

“This perfume you want is not just for show,” Chestnut spoke, softly. He sliced his ingredients slowly, the thump of his blade ricocheted off of the wooden table and stunned the silence that was too early to fall.

“‘Tis a reminder for when my bedside grows cold and Viktor will still ask for me when I am gone,” Yelena pulled back her locks. “Viktor cannot be alone. He cannot.”

“Do you speak as his mother?”

“I speak for Viktor because a young dynamic can be just as foolish as an old one, if I am any indication.” Yelena lowered her head. Not in shame as a fairytale would describe, but as an old mother who knew her inevitable fate in God’s lonely world. “For as long as I have been a mother, Viktor has always had two things in his life:  _ Life and Love.  _ if his father and I were to leave, he will miss his  _ Love.  _ If he loses his future, he will miss his  _ Life.  _ I want Viktor to still have  _ Life  _ and  _ Love  _ long after the Farmer has reaped his grain.  _ Please.” _ Yelena's voice lost its own strength.  _ “You can be his lover, or you can be his friend. But please, please look after my Viktor.” _

Chestnut gathered some cloth, and Yelena wiped back her tears.

“Mrs. Nikiforov, I’m not-- _ Are you sure about this?”  _ Chestnut stroked his jaw. “I’ve been muzzled. Your son saw it happen to me.”

“I know this is nothing to hold onto, but  _ I  _ trust you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +I am taking requests for this fic, so if you have a suggestion that you want to see in this story let me know in the comments or on my tumblr, @yuuris-piano  
>  +i love incorporating different ideas into a story, and i kinda want to gear this story to what y'all want to read so i enjoy suggestions  
>    
>  +i hope this chapter wasn't too messy with all the twists, turns, and WTFs  
>  +Mrs. Yelena Nikiforov, I would keep an eye on her *hint hint nudge nudge*  
>  +i have a really nice audio for the [alphas](https://yuuris-piano.tumblr.com/post/167026710676/there-was-once-an-alpha-who-dreamed-of-traveling) in this chapter


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~You’re the right time at the moment  
> You’re the sunrise that keeps my heart open~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +heyo! it's been a while since i've last updated. i wanted to catch up on school work and sleep before adding this chapter  
> +so as a reward for waiting patiently for a few days, i've made this chapter pretty long  
> +i've noticed that these chapters are slowly getting longer. yikes!  
> +makkachin and vicchan are in this chapter. instead of having them as poodles, they're horses!  
> +makkachin is a standard mare and vicchan is a miniature horse with a big personality~
> 
> +i wanted to explore viktor's thoughts and motives in this chapter, and i wanted to share a bit of yuuri's own world  
> +yuuri doesn't have a strong impact to the story yet before viktor doesn't know him; but as time goes on and they both grow comfortable with each other, we'll begin to see more of yuuri's side of the story
> 
> +i am implementing omegaverse stuff into the story, like heats and ruts  
> +but this is a parody, so we'll see how it's handled

At around eight on the very same Winter morning, a servant named Georgi walked up the velvet stairs and down the carpeted halls, bearing a glass bowl and pitcher in his hands while a towel hung from one of his arms. His two-piece uniform--consisting of white and a shade of navy--blended with the wayward and misshapen clouds that broke apart when the sun poked through. Flicking orange candles and sparks onto the estate, illuminating the wedding cake and its slice near the edge where the horse stables stood under its icing.

When Georgi approached a bedroom down a shaded hall, he knocked with the back of his knuckles and turned the brass knob when he heard a stir. Perched on the edge of his bed was Viktor Nikiforov; a bird inside his cage, looking out a curtained window with barely a twitch in his wings.

Georgi placed the glass and towel done and pulled back the curtains with a flourish. The stained glass revealed melted snow and slush against the window, but at least there was a good view from the east side of the estate and Viktor fluttered his eyelids.

“Good morning, young Master.” Chipper like every morning, Georgi tipped the pitcher into the glass bowl and ran a towel through the warm water. He turned his head to a degree and caught Viktor squinting at the sun. “My, you’re blooming in more ways than one today!”

Viktor blew a bundle of his bangs to the side with a huff before flopping back onto his bed and curling under the covers. Georgi had to poke and nudge before Viktor wiggled his head out from under his sheets, and the serving Beta brushed Viktor’s hair back with his fingers before gently dabbing the man’s face. Was Viktor too old to whine and pout? On a morning like this with Georgi as his company, he could get away with acting childish for once. Viktor would growl, and Georgi would growl back. Albeit, he couldn’t exactly growl because it would be rude, but Georgi flashed his teeth more than once to get his intentions across before Viktor took the washing towel for and cleaned his own face.

 _“Blossoming?”_ Viktor could’ve scoffed if he was that kind of character, but he enjoyed a good tease and humor. Especially since Georgi’s face resembled more of the _Starry Night_ than a mid-morning day, with all the powders and eccentric flairs. “I am enjoying the fruits of four years of labor. I should be ready for the harvest if there’s something to get excited about.”

“A harvest doesn’t occur in Winter until it’s Spring, young Master. But even then, you sow and care for a good portion of the year before reaping the rewards.” Georgi took Viktor’s finished towel, rinsed and dried it well before hanging it over his arm. Viktor, finally motivated to rise, took his first steps towards the bedroom window and gazed out to the field of barren trees and shrubbery. Bits of grass still managed to grow, despite the frost. Coiling in little tufts against the white, faded bands of gold coming up for Viktor and for Viktor’s eyes alone if he hadn’t noticed Georgi glancing out when a familiar carriage came up from down a path. Bore the estate’s crest along its doors and Georgi perked up, a sudden waft lulling his senses.

When Viktor shivered in his nightgown and crossed his arms, flakes of his scent fell to the floor like snow. A brief sigh escaped Viktor’s lips, perhaps figuring out the words he wanted to say, but they were lost to a realization.

“Mother doesn’t ‘venture out this early.” His voice soft, almost numb with each syllable.

“Lady Nikiforov has business to attend, and so will you now that marriage is off your mind.” Georgi gathered the cleansing materials into his arms and bidded Viktor a good day. “Your future is within your hands now, young Master.”

Viktor’s fingers twitched, almost tore into his sleeves if they dared to try. The teal in front of his eyes and the worry hiding behind them darkened when the shadows returned to cover the sun. “What good are these hands when I have planned for the inevitable?”

Georgi raised an eyebrow. _“The inevit--?”_

“All these years, I thought I was doing a service for a silly challenge, but part of me wonders about what if things had been different down to the last wire.” Viktor stepped back and leaned against his bedpost, legs crossed. An almost defiant tilt to his head, but he pulled his bangs back and Georgi knew that he was true.

“So, you wanted to get married?”

 _“No.”_ The answer was swift, rehearsed countless times over and over for years until this past week after Viktor’s twenty-eighth birthday. But though the response was said, there was a breath of hesitation and the soft pitter patter of dread soon followed. _“I wish someone tried.”_

“Young Master, if you want to be wed, be wed. If you don’t, then don’t let these thoughts linger far past their harvest.”

“What is there to do when a purpose is gone with the wind?” Viktor shrugged. “For four years, I feared to be wed. I trained, side by side, with Mr. Feltsman until I knew the basics of wine and cheese and the frivolities in between, separated by age and years along the Caspian Sea. In all those years, I worked so hard to secure my own treasure, but did anybody work _as_ hard to secure theirs? Love is as tender as treasure; was I not as tender as a treasure should be?”

“Omegas don’t wed well when they’re older.” Georgi stated the obvious, and it dulled the silence between him and Viktor. “You knew this when going into the challenge to secure your own fate. Your mother and father only wanted the best to take your hand, so they devised a challenge that only the dedicated would accept.”

“Did I mean nothing?”

“You mean more than what you think now. Affections don’t end when you’re plucked after the harvest. Much as with adventure, and you can travel the world and become a sommelier to the grand fruits and labors, waiting to be smelled by a nose fitted by you. A nose trained to such a degree should not die, but be used for the greater good of the arts.”

Viktor pressed his palms against his cheek and fluttered his lashes; a bird itching its wings, ready to fly. “The greater good be said in the afternoon than for this morning.” Viktor rubbed his head, untangling his locks and bedhead. “Come, my mother needs to see this face.”

“She shall.” Georgi opened the door and Viktor went out. As the Omega shuffled down the carpeted floors and felt the sun break through the clouds yet again, he stopped and brushed his thumb against his lips.

_It is a universal truth that all will be wed, but why am I here when perfume was my first love instead?_

Viktor remembered the voice; the velvet highs and lows that fiddled with the keys to his heart. The warm and tender hand that held him oh-so gently by the sleeve, and the memory of the Alpha’s cinnamon scent made Viktor smile. _Even after all this time._ The person, _Chestnut,_ held affection towards him. If he had come a bit earlier or was aware of the Nikiforov estate’s challenge, how different would Viktor’s today be?

* * *

 

A few roads down from the Nikiforov estate, Mr. Katsuki stepped out from his cottage with a bottle of perfume, by Mrs. Nikiforov’s request. Bundled from head to toe in wool and with a shaggy coat, Mr. Katsuki barely took three steps before his loyal steed bounded up the cottage steps and pawed his leg softly with hooves. Vicchan neighed and brushed his nose against his master’s coat as Mr. Katsuki strapped reins around his miniature horse’s jaw. Vicchan would tug and chew like he usually would, wiggling his ears until Mr. Katsuki patted them. And off they went.

Trudging through the countryside’s snow with each other for company. Vicchan hopping and tunneling through the snow with his hooves and chewing on some of the ice before Mr. Katsuki tugged him forward, or the poor horse would find himself with a stomachache. Plowing his nose through the chipping cold, Vicchan sniffed out a trail and tugged Mr. Katsuki all the way to the Nikiforov estate. Granted, Mr. Katsuki could see the roof and chimney smoke from a distance, but he played ignorant and fed Vicchan treats and belly rubs when they made it to the entrance gate roughly ten minutes later.

Both were frozen from head to toe and found much warmth when they neared the front door. Mr. Katsuki wrapped Vicchan’s reins around his wrist when he knocked on the door and huddled deeper into his coat before a servant came and flushed hospitality to his pale cheeks.

“Perfume for Mrs. Yelena Nikiforov.” Mr. Katsuki’s breath rose into the air, accompanied by the servant’s when she took the perfume from Mr. Katsuki’s hands. She asked if he wanted to come inside to warm up before getting paid, but Mr. Katsuki shook his head. Mentioning that the perfume was for a special occasion and that no price nor coin could ever live up to the occasion’s amount.

“Have a nice day, Chestnut.”

“As to you.”

The door closed slowly, as if the servant was giving Mr. Katsuki a second chance. He turned his head the other way and was about to leave, but Vicchan tugged on the reins and dragged him out from the front steps and towards the side where the horse stables stood.

“Vicchan, it’s time to go home.” Mr. Katsuki tugged on the reins, but he was the one being dragged than the other way around. Vicchan plowed forward with a little skip in his hooves, tail wagging when he approached a stable and hopped onto his hind legs. His front hooves knocking against the stable’s wood and a decorated mare poked her head out from her home and looked down at the excitable Vicchan. Vicchan wiggled his ears and neighed, as if to say, _“Hi, big horse! My name is Vicchan!”_

The mare blinked slowly, craning her neck down to return Vicchan’s neighs and the miniature horse stood taller and snatched a summer flower from the mare’s mane. Mr. Katsuki gasped and pulled Vicchan down. Kneeling next to his horse and trying to wrestle the flower from between Vicchan’s teeth. The tiny stallion kicked his back legs, and Mr. Katsuki was forced to retreat. But when Vicchan approached the stable again, Mr. Katsuki was dragged forward as well. He bit the reins with his teeth, trying to pull his wrist free before getting Vicchan under control.

“Chestnut?”

Mr. Katsuki flushed through many shades before his eyes met Viktor’s, and the coated Omega rested a hand over his hip. Eyebrow raised at the little fiasco by his dear Makkachin’s stable.

“H-Hi.” Mr. Katsuki yanked Vicchan away from Makkachin when he tried to snatch another flower. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“Then what does it look like, Chestnut?” Was Viktor teasing him?

Mr. Katsuki covered his mouth. The less he said, the better. He tried to scoop Vicchan into his arms, but the tiny stallion continued to neigh and stomp and wiggle his ears. Like an excitable suitor meeting a goddess for the first time, and it was too cold in the year to hang around and chat. It took a few grunts before Mr. Katsuki successfully scooped Vicchan into his arms and struggled back onto his feet. Holding the horse’s legs securely to prevent any kicks, and Mr. Katsuki gave Vicchan a disapproving look. Two summer flows poking out from the horse’s teeth.

“I apologize for any inconveniences I’ve caused.” Mr. Katsuki bowed his head. Vicchan copied his master, but he squinted at Viktor.

“No need to worry. Inconveniences get to the best of us. Please lift your head.”

Mr. Katsuki did and now there was this awkward tension.

Viktor didn’t think he would meet Chestnut so soon. Mr. Katsuki sincerely hoped that Viktor forgot everything about last week. Vicchan sat in the middle, annoyed with both humans and wanted to neigh with Makkachin again. Just as Mr. Katsuki walked forward to leave, Vicchan wiggled out from his master’s arms and ran around. Looping his rein around his master and Viktor’s feet, roping them both closer together until one stumbled and fell. Sending the other with them, and they both collided in the snow. One on top of the other before Vicchan wiggled free from his rein and bounded towards Makkachin’s stable to share a flower with the mare.

The very same flower that he had plucked from her mane, but there was just one flower between his teeth. For the other was tangled somewhere in between Mr. Katsuki and Viktor. When Mr. Katsuki pushed up and shook the snow from his hair, he shrieked. What was he doing? Laying on top of Viktor with such indecency? Mr. Katsuki’s struggles only tightened the reins, and Viktor had to lead him through a few breathing exercises to calm down.

“Just an accident. A _mere_ accident that could happen to anyone.” Viktor continued the breathing exercises as he slowly guided Mr. Katsuki’s hands to the reins around both of their legs. _“We can get through this.”_

“I--”

“Chestnut, I’m alright.” Viktor ruffled the snow out from his hair and flashed a smile. “We can get through this. Trust me.”

They worked together. Mr. Katsuki, since he was on top, fiddled with the reins while Viktor voiced his thought-process. When one method failed, Viktor apologized sincerely and thanked Mr. Katuski for his patience. Mr. Katsuki was silent for the most part until he was free from Viktor, and he helped the latter stand up.

Viktor helped untie Vicchan’s reins from Mr. Katsuki’s wrist, and Mr. Katsuki reached out and placed a summer flower behind Viktor’s ear.

“My horse took it from yours,” Mr. Katsuki mumbled, hiding his tied wrist into his coat pocket. “It’s best to return it.”

Never in Viktor’s life had he ever met such a standoffish, stuttering Alpha that preferred to stare into the background than into the eyes of those he spoke to. But when Mr. Katsuki scooped Vicchan into his arms again and whispered words that Viktor couldn’t exactly catch, there was an amiable affection and endearment that tickled the keys to the Omega’s heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +per usual, if y'all want to request something into this fic like an idea, character, or scenario, you can comment down below or just chat with me on tumblr @yuuris-piano  
>  +i post fanfic previews of WIP chapters on my tumblr if you want to check those out  
>  +i made [a little tune](https://yuuris-piano.tumblr.com/post/167114585958/joey-wingster-fanfic-scents-and) for this story so i hope you enjoy  
>    
>  +thank you again for the comments, kudos, subscribes, and shares!  
>  +thank you for supporting what i do, and i hope to see y'all in the next chapter  
>    
>  +*cough cough* backstory *cough cough*


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Yuuri, do you really have to go to Europe?" ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +a yuuri and vicchan chapter!  
> +i don't have to type "mr. katsuki" anymore...hurrah!  
> +i'm still surprised on why people enjoy this story so much, but whatever floats y'all's boat  
> +is this story too slow burn, or should i pick up the pace?

If one dared to walk out in the cold and travel west from the Nikiforov estate, two roads down stood a quaint cottage named  _ Chestnut’s Perfumery.  _ Or as it as it was four years ago, merely a patch of dirt and wild grass along the countryside. As the cottage stood and bore its back towards the cold, there was endearment to its fixtures. From the lanterns and bulbs of candles that hung above the front steps, illuminating warmth and fire on those snuggled evenings without a fire. To the fenced area near the back that grew wild squash and blueberries when the sun was nice and hot. Pristine glass bottles decorated near the windows to draw excitable eyes; this was a familiar setting away from the cities and towns, and a sight for sore eyes after staring at fields of grass for the past hour and a half.

For a business out in the countryside, work was well. Being so near to the Nikiforov estate, the cottage was busy and trafficked by a number of nobles and officials on a bit of a weekly-basis. Through word of mouth, sometimes the cottage was visited by others that had come far and wide to find a home away from home for their scenting needs. And once they stepped past the threshold, in came the world of chemistry.

Beakers, measuring weights, stirring rods, concoctions aging on a faded shelf, and the brilliant chemist and sommelier to this world of scents was none other than  _ Katsuki Yuuri,  _ or  _ Chestnut-- _ ’twas easier to pronounce and familiar to the ears because Yuuri was not like his visitors. He had a dynamic, he had a scent, he had his own ambitions and dreams, but he never met anyone that was quite like him. Perhaps it was his accent and the fumble of his words when Yuuri spoke. Perhaps it was his clothes, though he dressed as European as he could in the eyes of his clients. Perhaps it was his facial structure or how his cottage’s scent was mixed with foreign spices and tea leaves. Perhaps, adopting a miniature horse for the past four years was the final bow to this dilemma, but Yuuri stopped caring after a year.

After his English improved and he grew more confident with his words, after he began to view his clients as genuine people than persons to be afraid of, and after he grew more comfortable with the fact that he had built his little home so close to an estate! Within the first few months after the cottage was built four years ago, Yuuri paid a visit to the Nikiforov estate and apologized to head of the family, Mr. Dimitri Nikiforov, until the frightening yet booming Omega pulled Yuuri into a hug and saw no faults with the construction. And then afterwards, he requested for a perfume and Yuuri’s first clients were the Nikiforovs before word of mouth gave him the business that he was so accustomed to.

And after a rather frantic morning with the heir to the Nikiforov estate, Yuuri and his faithful steed were coming down a hill to make it back home. Vicchan strolled next to his master. The pitter patter of his hooves were a gentle rhythm that lulled Yuuri’s thumping heart. His face still had its pink luster, but because it was cold and not because of the entanglement he found himself in with Viktor. Viktor right under him. Him pressing against Viktor when they both fell. The fact that Yuuri’s head collided with Viktor’s torso, and how the latter cushioned his fall.

Oh dear, Yuuri couldn’t wave the thoughts away no matter how hard he tried, and all he could do was give Vicchan belly rubs when they entered the cottage and he buried his face into Vicchan’s mane. Vicchan wiggled his ears. He only neighed when there was a knock at the door, and Yuuri smoothed his hair before opening it.

A nice woman, a Beta from two towns over and one of Yuuri’s more frequent clients, had in her arms a little girl with a soft plush. Yuuri cooed and wiggled his finger at the baby while the mother asked if Yuuri could make a sweet ointment for her precious little girl.

Yuuri pulled out a roll of parchment and wrote down the order. As the mother spoke in the background, Vicchan rolled around on the floor, trying to find a comfortable spot for his back. Eventually, he stood up and walked up to a cushioned chair that Yuuri was gifted with from a client or someone fancy, and up Vicchan went. Up on his hind legs and he steadied himself with his front ones. Pawing at the chair’s armrests until he found his hold, and he pulled himself up. Vicchan grunted when he slipped, his hind legs nearly touched the floor but he pulled himself up again. He wiggled, tried to steady himself. If only he had claws, but Yuuri came from behind and boosted Vicchan up, and the miniature horse wiggled his ears when he finally managed to sit on the cushioned chair.

Yuuri rubbed Vicchan’s lower jaw before returning to his client’s order.

That night when Vicchan climbed into bed and dragged a blanket up by his teeth, Yuuri sat by his workstation and jotted memorable details into his journal. His quill scratched and marked the creamy sheets and as Yuuri wrote, he could almost feel a warm hand on his shoulder. The tickling bits of hair that used to sweep down his older sister’s face when she pressed her head against Yuuri’s as the latter wrote in his journal by candlelight. In the present, Yuuri turned his head. There was no one behind him, save for Vicchan. But the tiny stallion was already fast asleep, head resting on Yuuri’s pillow. Ears twitched at random intervals while Yuuri finished up his nightly entry.

When he finished, he fingered through the pages. Watching his character-text morph into English words with every flip of the page. Towards the beginning, he worked a lot on his alphabet and spelling. Towards where he was now, Yuuri was able to switch between English and Japanese, but English was done mostly for work and for helping him pronounce certain words. But Yuuri could sit back and relax a bit, knowing that he had come a long way since he first arrived, roughly four years ago.

\---

_ “Yuuri, do you really have to go to Europe? Why not stay with me?” _

The fingers brushed against Yuuri’s, interlocking with his in every which way. But he remained stoic despite the gesture, and he drew away.  _ “I--” _

\---

Yuuri snapped his journal shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +were there prosecutors in the viktorian era? i'll need to research that  
> +next chapter or next-next chapter will feature traveling  
> +YoI cameos will begin next chapter
> 
> +yes! to mrs. nikiforov and mr. nikiforov interactions next chapter with their dear viktor at the dining table


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Nikiforov pays her husband a visit, and they have an honest chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +where’s HQ been? i’ve been busy, so i’m sorry if this chapter was delayed for some time. these next two weeks aren’t forgiving, academic-wise, and i have two songs to compose and play for yuuri’s birthday at the end of the month so updates are going to be a bit slow for a little bit. i apologize for the troubles and worries!
> 
> +i’m not giving up on this story yet! there’s so much i want to do, and i haven’t started yet!
> 
> +you could say that these first few chapters have been heavy on backstory and setting up the pace of what this story’ll be, but we’ll being entering into the traveling!arc starting the next chapter, and we’ll have proper viktor and yuuri development. platonically, at first.
> 
> +i actually wonder if i’m updating too much in such a short amount of time. what are y’all’s thoughts on this?
> 
> +Chris was supposed to have a cameo in this chapter, but the chapter decided to write itself XD

The Nikiforov lineage, contrary to popular belief and of the standards within the time period, began with an Omega. A baby girl, no different than a baker’s daughter or a King’s pride in joy, grew up in an environment very different from where her predecessors would eventually grow. A mere babe, left in a willow basket on the shoulders of two kingdoms. Alone, curled under a leather-bound book with no words to speak of. The little babe was neither the protagonist or heroine for her own story, but she perhaps did a thing or two that most thought an Omega couldn’t do. _. _

A child, who grew without parents of her own or of a family’s love, found her own  _ Life  _ and  _ Love.  _ From the goodness within her heart, she financed her own future. Leaning near the windows of schools and peeking through the glass as a teacher wrote letters and number across a chalk board. She copied the same figures into the dirt, poking her head up every now and then to catch snippets of what the children read in class and followed along with the daily lesson-plans. As time aged with her, the little girl grew into a young woman. A flower of society if she had been blessed with a family, but she-- _ Aria-- _ stood against the crowd with her head held high. Hands behind her back when her locks were snipped from the bullying girls and boys.

When another lock fell to her feet, it was another victory for Aria to keep when she rose above her peers and studied as a consultant for small businesses and families of no-name. And almost like a fairytale, Aria’s fame grew overnight after a particular waltz with a Duke’s daughter and history passed the torch to the next daughter of the Nikiforov line. For  _ Nikiforov  _ meant victory and it was a name that Aria gave herself because she triumphed over the restless voices and doubts sent to her way because she was an Omega and a woman.

A characteristic seen in the descendents to the Nikiforov line and though she tore her branch off from the noble family back from wherever, Mrs. Yelena Nikiforov possessed no doubt when she approached her husband one evening. Just a month after Viktor’s twenty-eighth birthday, hair in a lacey-bun because she couldn’t fall asleep no matter how hard she tried. Yelena found her husband in the study, musing over a glossy letter sent from a Norwegian Duchess that had ties with the noble family. Much to Yelena’s amusement, her dear Dimitri crossed his brows and scribbled a few words for a suitable response before he crumpled the parchment and started over again.

“Dear, sweep me off my feet and tuck me to bed for this old tinker cannot  _ ‘tink’ _ when his heart feels heavy and sad.”

Draped against the doorframe with the hem of her nightgown swished by her legs, Yelena tilted her head to the side. “Oh, you and your rhymes.”

“Rhythm is what keeps my heart afoot; without, I feels as if my life has been took,” Dimitri sighed, purring a bit afterwards when he felt Yelena’s warmth behind him and he nuzzled his cheek against her arm. Yelena stole a kiss. Not from the lips, but from Dimitri’s hair. She kissed every wayward strand, slowly migrating down to the back of Dimitri’s neck. Her rhyming Omega tensed his shoulders, but Yelena whispered for Dimitri to relax. Resting her arms across Dimitri’s chest, Yelena rested her chin on the crook of his shoulder and gazed down at the peculiar letter from Norway. An invitation to meet the new spouse and the baby on the way. Enough to knit Yelena’s eyebrows and she growled between her teeth, setting the hairs on Dimitri’s arms on edge until his wife quieted down and eased her grumbling with tender embraces.

“I swear, this woman attempts to mock me at every turn.”

“But with every turn, she truly does yearn for the love that you have. So please, dear, don’t be sad.”

Yelena pursed her lips. “What madness must’ve consumed me for loving a fool like you.”

She leaned forward and Dimitri stole a kiss from her lips, and all was well. Their scents woven together like fine pieces of silk but before they were lost in each other’s affections, Dimitri had to send a letter back to the Duchess of Norway. It was his duty as the fool’s heir to the Nikiforov line, but Yelena helped Dimitri compose his words. Whispering lines of poetry and wondering if a Duchess could comprehend the amusement that frothed and bubbled within the study.

Dimitri added his witty rhymes, Yelena pointed her remarks and drew her own designs, and the letter to send was finished after a quarter of a candle had melted. The Nikiforovs both agreed to send Viktor in place of them. Not because murder most foul would occur if Yelena took to the trip to Norway, not because Dimitri’s heat was nearing and the Alpha in Yelena felt a stir, but because while Viktor was still young, he needed to travel while he still could. To see one’s child at home without a plan to move their next chess piece bothered Yelena in ways that she couldn’t describe, and Dimitri scented his wife’s cheeks lightly. Easing her worries, her fears, and her doubts.

“Viktor, will be fine.” Dimitri rose from his seat and nudged Yelena to follow him back to their bedchamber for a night of rest. “He’s a good boy with a nose for the eccentrics; but when he often comes to the study to read, he learns of what I do and keeps it in in his memories.”

“I’m afraid.” Yelena clutched her husband’s arm. “People think a certain way when they hear the name  _ Nikiforov.” _

“Viktor  _ is  _ a Nikiforov, through and through. We may not act like nobility or follow the same customs, but the very first Nikiforov didn’t follow said customs and forged a path for her own. Pray we be the best that Viktor’s got, or I refuse to call myself his father.” Dimitri squeezed his wife’s hand. “But dear, when did this fear manifest?”

“Manifest, because“ Yelena found her support on Dimitri’s shoulder,  _ “I don’t want him to be who I almost was.” _

Perhaps it was more than just a coincidence when Viktor heard those words spoken when his parents passed by his bedroom, and Viktor pretended to turn under his covers to feign sleep. His mother rarely spoke of her past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +i’m doing this  [ survey ](https://goo.gl/forms/GkIi5eYqzLiHc69A3) for a possible writing project that i should do for 2018. if you’re interested in participating, check it out and cast your vote in. i am posting the project on AO3, so 2018 content to think about.
> 
> +one of the more personal reasons why this chapter took so long to update was because a few days ago, my paranoia got very bad and i couldn’t type. even if i wanted to. so out of health concerns, i took a break so that i could heal.
> 
> +thank you for the continued support with the comments, shares, and kudos! it means a lot to me~ i hope y’all know that.


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A name isn't the only reason for respect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +Heyo, everybody! I’ve climbed, conquered, and made it to the other side of the essay-mountains. Finally, I have time to update this fic, and it makes me really happy!  
> +The book that this story was loosely based off of (Jane Austen’s “Sense and Sensibility”) gave me insight into the direction I want this fanfic to go, so that’s exciting  
> +I’m recovering from essay-fatigue  
> +I got accepted to two universities, so that’s exciting  
> +Oh, I changed my tumblr URL so now it’s @yuuris-piano. Sorry for any confusions that occurred because of that change  
> +This chapter feels more “modern” to me

Near the last glimpse of sun, a carriage was prepared at the front of the Nikiforov estate. Makkachin was taken from her lofty stall, coaxed by the promise of a carrot, and tied to the carriage’s front before Mila fed the mare with an open palm.

Makkachin licked and nibbled, her ears bent at the center when she lowered her head for more treats, but Mila only brought enough for a few mouthfuls. Makkachin pawed her hoof into the crumbling snow as Mila whispered her apologies and goodbyes. Running her fingers through Makkachin’s mane and tugging the summer flowers out between her fingers. Replacing them were gold and velvet ribbons, the crest of the Nikiforov family draped over her back and Mila fastened the blanket before giving her signal to Georgi. Georgi passed the news to a passing servant, who passed to another servant, who passed to many more mouths and individuals until the news came to Mr. and Mrs. Nikiforov through a sliver and whisper from a heavy-set door.

There the couple stood, in their best clothes, watching as Viktor fingered the royal uniform given from the main family. Worn by a mannequin, that used to stand shyly by Viktor’s bedside but now, it stood with a straight back for the worth upon its shoulders.

Golden threads and red cuffs were the symbol of power when Viktor slipped the jacket on, buttoning the cuffs himself with a swift hand. Each and every button deserved a solemn silence, fastened over Viktor’s shoulders before he smoothed his collar. Where he stood, he presented his new look to his family.

Other than the ornaments of red and gold, Viktor looked no different than the day before. He was still Yelena and Dimitri’s little boy, and a breath of pride kept Yelena’s tears at bay when Dimitri approached their son and inspected Viktor’s uniform.

It was perfect, _Viktor_ was perfect. He had grown too fast before their eyes, but there was one more thing that Viktor needed. The Nikiforov crest: _of two branches intertwined, balancing a dove yet an eagle in the curling leaves._ Not as fancy as other family crests, but it was a crest that swelled Viktor’s chest with pride. His father pulled the family crest from his own uniform and smoothed it onto Viktor’s chest. The right side for truth, one pat for trust, and a tender embrace for family.

_“No tale is more compelling than the one that never ends.”_

Viktor melted in his father’s arms, not wanting to let go but he had to. He had to because he was the next heir to the family’s name, and tears would only stain his uniform but by damn, honor didn’t matter because Viktor had _his_ family. Mr. Nikiforov gestured for his wife to join the embrace, and she carefully took Viktor into her arms and rested her cheek against her son’s chest. Hearing his heartbeat, like she used to when Viktor was a mere babe in her arms. Their scents meshed together, comforting each other. Mrs. Nikiforov drew circles along her son’s back.

“Viktor Alexander Nikiforov, you are named after the two most gentle individuals I’ve ever met,” Mrs. Nikiforov whispered into her son’s ear. “The first being your father’s father, and his odd humor about never letting people go or letting them down. Oh, and never deserting them too.”

Mr. Nikiforov flushed scarlet and Viktor laughed into his mother’s shoulder, remembering the funny rhymes that were always heard at his father’s childhood home.

“Who’s the second individual, mother?”

“My mommy, of course!” Mrs. Nikiforov pulled back from her embrace, loosening her hair-bun and allowing a few strands to run down the length of her neck. “She went by _Alexandria_ but wanted to be addressed as ‘Alexander’, so I called her ‘Alex’ out of harmless jest. We’re still--how do the young address it these days-- _savage_ with one another. The term doesn’t seem appropriate but--”

“Mother, dearest?” Viktor tilted his head to the side, ever-so slightly. A shift of his bangs covered one of his eyes. “Breaking a wall is a crime, but breaking the fourth has its consequences. Don’t you think?”

“And we’ve had enough war in this world.” Mrs. Nikiforov rubbed Viktor’s cheeks and bopped her nose against his. Of course, Viktor had to bend down a bit for his mother to reach, but it was all in good spirit and Mrs. Nikiforov embraced her son again and Mr. Nikiforov embraced her and Viktor. If embraces could last forever, Viktor would’ve never left. But he  had to go, and Mrs. Nikiforov had to accept that. Her baby boy was going to fend for himself, because no one else was going to do it for him.

“He’ll be fine.” Mr. Nikiforov nuzzled his cheek against his wife’s. “He has company.”

“Makkachin and Georgi are the best company,” Mrs. Nikiforov sighed, freeing her bun and letting her hair fall.

Mr. Nikiforov mused in silence before whispering something into his wife’s ear, and Mrs. Nikiforov gazed up at her husband with an all too-knowing grin. A spark in her gaze.

For when Viktor made his way to the front doors, greeted and bidded farewell by all the faces he grew up with since birth, he stepped out into the world. His attention fell to the groomed carriage, to his adorned Makkachin, to the waving Georgi that nearly fell out of his seat, and to the bundled Yuuri that stood by the carriage door. Hands behind his back, a little briefcase by his leg. A checkered-coat keeping him snug against the setting Winter sun, and Yuuri turned his head and greeted Viktor with a soft smile.

Viktor slammed the front door shut, startling everyone behind him. Hand rested over his thumping heart. Simple breaths. _Breathe._ He sighed and opened the door again, a bit more dignified and his mother laughed from somewhere upstairs. Having heard and seen _whom_ had changed Viktor’s character so drastically.

Yuuri raised an eyebrow when Viktor walked down the steps and to the carriage, stiff in his movements as if he held the Nikiforov’s name and financial stability on his shoulders. Even though he would never amount to any of the money nor the respect that others would keep and that _he_ would never earn. But all the same, Viktor was a polite person at heart and returned a smile of his own when his gaze met Yuuri’s.

“Lovely weather for a carriage-ride.” He opened the door and allowed for Yuuri to get in first. Yuuri stepped aside.

“Lovely weather for diplomatic matters. May Heaven keep it as such, _Your Grace.”_ Yuuri bowed his head, arm outstretched for Viktor to get into the carriage instead.

“What if Heaven wants me to be humble?”

“Then Heaven will reward you for your humbleness.”

Georgi leaned out from his driver’s seat, squinting at the bumbling “nitwits” that still stood in the freezing cold of mid-January. “Anytime now, gents. My fingers aren’t freezing, but be mindful of the horses! Their hooves are sensitive!”

Makkachin sneezed and it startled the miniature stallion by her heels. Vicchan wiggled his ears and neighed for his master to move. His beady eyes bore into Viktor’s soul when the Omega went into the carriage after Yuuri.

Georgi tugged on Vicchan’s reign. “Nothing will go wrong, because you got a Beta with a good ear,” he promised. Vicchan snorted, but he got into position and followed Makkachin’s lead. Dragging the carriage out from the Nikiforov estate and down the bumbling road to Norway from an undisclosed European location that didn’t need a name because it was the countryside.

In the first hour, Yuuri explained that Mr. Nikiforov reached out to him about a few days prior about the trip, and that the Duchess of Norway and her spouse would enjoy a spritz of perfume to soothe and prepare for the birth of a baby girl. Yuuri drummed his fingers against his briefcase, having spoken more formally than to any client that had visited him in the past four years since he came to the countryside.

“Is it the uniform?” Viktor asked.

Yuuri shook his head, almost flung his glasses right across the carriage if he had been braver about it.

Viktor slouched on his side of the carriage, careful to keep his kneecaps from brushing against Yuuri’s. “You don’t have to speak formally to me if it’s just us alone.”

“I speak the way I do, not because of our differences, but because I respect you.”

“But please, don’t force yourself, if you don’t want to.” Viktor studied Yuuri’s body language carefully. Yuuri neither slouched or showed any signs of letting his guard down. His hands always remained on top of his briefcase, right where Viktor could notice them at all tops. Yuuri either stared off into the distance if the carriage felt quiet, or he spoke a bit about Vicchan and why the tiny stallion wanted to come along on the trip. Of course, Viktor’s mother would’ve taken Vicchan in as her own steed, but Yuuri was mindful and played safe to Vicchan’s small comforts. Viktor would chat about his Makkachin, chuckling mostly to himself when he wondered out loud of how his father was coping.

“Other horses are great, but Makkachin holds a sweet spot in his dear heart.”

“Is that _so?”_

The hours slipped by until it was too dark to travel. After Makkachin and Vicchan found their comfy spots next to each other, Georgi came into the carriage resembling more as an ice cube than a Beta while Yuuri and Viktor huddled close to keep him warm. They had at least two more days of travel and just enough sleeping space for two individuals--make it three if they were okay wish being squished against each other for a few hours a night.

As a faithful servant, Georgi slept beside Viktor to keep him warm but in reality, Georgi eventually took over half of the carriage with his limbs alone and Viktor abandoned to the other side where Yuuri kept to himself beside the door. And there, the Omega and Alpha sat rather stiffly over the velvet seats.

Viktor failing at his attempts to quiet his thumping heart, hoping that his scent didn’t give away his nerves. Yuuri nervous at the closeness in between them, how his hand could reach out and comfort Viktor’s if he wanted to. But Yuuri’s hand remained firmly to where it was, and the owner cleared his throat rather roughly to bid Viktor a goodnight.

It wasn’t every day when Yuuri got to sleep with another person--the last being four years ago when he huddled with his family in an enormous nest--so he made that Viktor had enough room before he closed his eyes.

One blink: a reminder that Yuuri had control over himself and that the little voice in his head won’t get the better of him when he’s close to Viktor.

Two blinks: self-reassurance that he would make the Nikiforovs proud after all they’ve done for him.

Three blinks: it was moments like this where Yuuri could safely drop his guard. Viktor eventually fell asleep, his head bumped against the carriage’s door. Lips parted slightly, mumbling every now and then about something in his dreams. Yuuri peeled his coat off and tucked Viktor to bed.

Yuuri heard a noise outside, so he slipped out from the carriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +Thank you for reading, supporting, commenting, and sharing this fic. It means a lot to me  
> +Based on last chapter’s survey, the mermaid!AU idea is winning so I’m planning the story out on my tumblr (@yuuris-piano) if you want to check out the daily snippets I churn out~  
> +I’m participating in a tumblr event for Yuuri’s birthday, so I’ll be posting some fluffy oneshots soon! The one for Yuuri’s birthday might be a bit...steamy~


	8. VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Yuuri murmured something softly in Japanese when Viktor gazed up and down at the mountain ridges along their Norwegian path. Sometimes, Viktor would pluck a twig from the overhanging trees and place it behind hear Yuuri’s ear, claiming that a flower would grow there come Spring. Even though it wasn’t true, Yuuri played along and wondered if a cherry blossom would spring up. Prompting Viktor to ask what a cherry blossom was, and Yuuri wasn’t sure how to describe it.
> 
> Watching him try was entertaining, and Viktor helped fill in the words that Yuuri didn’t remember in English. Bit of a heartwarming moment, and Georgi felt blessed when he tallied the moment down and tucked the scores back into his breast pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +Hi, everyone! It’s been over a week since my last update and a few things have happened   
>  +Because of the Big Fic polls, the mer!AU won and I’ve been working on it through  [ Mer!Ficlet ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12738711/chapters/29051325) . Mer!Ficlet is a ficlet/drabble collection of the Mer!story and sometimes, I write beefy oneshots to emphasize a concept or idea I’ve been thinking about. Because I wrote a oneshot earlier this week, it set back the update for this fic. Apologies!
> 
> +I remembered that this fic was a parody so I added some funny and adorable moments into this chapter update to make it a fun read. This the most enjoyable chapter I’ve written so far   
>  +Originally, this update was supposed to be longer, but I had to split it into two or it’ll be too long! The next update should be during the weekend or by next Monday

_ Four Years Prior: _

Nothing was better with wine and fine dining than worthwhile company. A four and twenty year old Viktor clinked his glass against Chris’ as they dined on meat and cheese near the mountainside of a vineyard. Their sun-kissed arms and the laughter that rang out on the tipsy afternoon accentuated the food and the atmosphere as both Omegas talked about their lives.

It had been a year since Viktor last saw Chris, and Chris had changed a lot. Namely, the most prominent features were the protruding belly and the honeydew-scent that dripped from his very being. Chris wore what appeared to be a sundress, a loose garment for easy mobility, and he had a peculiar  _ glow  _ that accented the love and affections that were encompassed in a single touch.

Chris reached across the table and held Viktor’s hand. He rubbed his thumb over every finger, polishing every curve and bump, and he stared at Viktor’s bandless ring-finger for a long time. Viktor swallowed his wine. About to comment, but he noticed that Chris’ wine glass remained untouched. Not a sip nor splatter left the glass, used more as a decoration at this point than part of the meal before Chris swished the contents around and crossed his legs slowly.

A long drawn sigh before he licked his lips. “Viktor, you--”

_ “I’m happy for you.” _ The wine tasted bittersweet when Viktor took another sip. When he perched his lips around the glass’ rim, he sniffed the wine curiously.

“Tell me a story, Viktor.” Chris scooted his seat back, closing his eyes when he pointed his head towards the setting sun. Viktor didn’t suppress his smile when he swished his glass.

“There’s something poetic about drinking wine harvested from grapes near the side of a volcano. The ash and fire breeds destruction and kills every flourishing thing and yet--” Viktor stabs a sliver of ham with the end of his fork “--such turmoil enriches everything on our plates today. “With the ash we burn, we quell our tongues with the  _ Waters of Life  _ and soothe the burns of our past.”

Viktor poured himself another glass, and his nose hovered briefly over the mouth of the wine bottle before he set it aside.Chris clapped his fingers and asked Viktor if he was learning the ways of a sommelier under Yakov’s caring wing.  _ Educational wing  _ was more appropriate, but it was a change in the conversation and Viktor didn’t turn the other cheek. Brighter than the polished plates before him, Viktor engaged in Chris’ chitchat.

Viktor could afford this brief dash of expression and smiles for just a year before, his parents had conjured a ridiculous game for a suitor to take his hand in marriage. Roughly around the same time, Chris was getting married.

“I think it’s neat that you’re taking your life into your own hands.” Chris broke Viktor from his momentary trance and patted the back of his hand. “It wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”

Viktor shifted his bangs to the side. A bit of a shrug riding hide on his shoulders, making him appear smaller than who he really was. “I don’t know if what I’m doing is right.”

Chris scooted closer to the dining table. “What you’re doing is right for you. Not every Omega wants to be married.” He fluttered his eyelashes.

Viktor swallowed before his question danced off his tongue.  _ “Why are you?” _

Chris rocked back and forth in his seat like a person lost in thought. His hand over his tummy when he gazed down at the beautiful bundle of joy that he cherished so dearly. It was a shade of intimacy, and Viktor didn’t avert his gaze because Chris had let down his guard to give Viktor a glimpse into his little world.

“Even though I can’t travel the world, my child will. My child will see all the places and mountains that I didn’t see, they will learn all the things that I didn’t know; and when someone meets them, whether it’s passing by or they become friends, they’ll see how polite and compassionate my child is and will learn of my values, though we’ll never meet.”

Inspired at that moment, Viktor hoped that his child would meet Chris’ child one day. But then, Viktor remembered that he had to be married to do so...

\---

Viktor opened his eyes when he felt the sun kiss the back of his neck. His breath and another’s rose in the air softly like smoke against the Winter’s Edge. When Viktor sat up from carriage floor-- _ he had rolled some time in the night-- _ he felt Yuuri’s coat against his chest. His eyes flickered around, blind in the semi-darkness but he knew that the quiet snores to his right weren’t Yuuri’s. Because Georgi rolled over in his dream and cuddled a carriage cushion against his cheek.

“Georgi?” Viktor nudged the man, his eyes darted around the carriage one more time. Yuuri was nowhere to be found.  _ “Georgi!” _

Georgi rolled onto belly before lifting his head slowly when Viktor stopped nudging him. A bit of a dazed look on his complexion before Georgi realized what time it was when he saw the morning sun. Granted, none of them packed a clock but still. The day was upon them, and they had three more days of travel. Georgi murmured his apologies as he eased to his feet, but Viktor told him to continue resting if he was tired. He could drive the carriage for the first few hours, and Georgi could drive the next.

“I can’t do that, Viktor.” Georgi hastily smoothed his clothes. “Your mother and father entrusted me to deliver you safely to Norway.”

Viktor smoothed Georgi’s hair before the latter could reach for it. “How can I be delivered safely if you fall asleep in the driver’s seat?”

Georgi didn’t argue with that. Having grown up with horses, Viktor knew what made them tick and he had known Makkachin for all his life. However, Georgi gave Viktor some pointers and some tug-gestures that he could use to to motivate the horses. But the lecture was cut short when Viktor’s stomach growled, and Georgi zipped throughout the carriage scurrying for food that had been packed for the three-days of travel.

Viktor slipped out from the carriage with Yuuri’s coat fastened around his middle.

He winced at the first glances of sunshine before trudging through the snow to check on Makkachin and Vicchan. Both horses were fine, pawing into the ground in search for baby grass and little treats on the forest floor. And curled up on the driver’s seat with fresh snow as a blanket was Yuuri.

Climbing up, Viktor brushed the flaking snow off from Yuuri’s bangs and returned the Alpha his coat. At Viktor’s second touch, Yuuri opened his eyes. He focused on Viktor’s leg before slowly moving his gaze up to meet Viktor’s smile. The feature alone shone brighter than the sun, and Yuuri coughed when he tried to speak. Viktor bundled Yuuri nicely before climbing down the driver’s seat.

“After I get some wood for a fire, why don’t we have a drink?”

Yuuri managed a small nod before coughing into his elbow. Contrary to what Viktor originally believed, finding firewood was easier than expected. Because when he leapt off from the driver’s seat last few steps and brushed snow off of Makkachin’s mane, he noticed the pile of wood near one of her hind legs.

Suddenly, everything made sense. Why Viktor didn’t see Yuuri in the carriage and why the Alpha was sleeping outside? Most likely, Yuuri went out and gathered firewood for the morning so that he,  _ Viktor,  _ and Georgi wouldn’t have to do it themselves. By that logic, Viktor brewed three strong mugs of snow water and coaxed Yuuri to drink so that it would soothe his throat.

Viktor spoke softly as Yuuri sipped, his hands perched around his mug like a child drinking a hot drink beverage for the first time in snow. Viktor talked about the weather while Yuuri listened quietly. Viktor didn’t ask many questions, but he focused his energy on one.

_ Why was Yuuri alone this morning? _

Yuuri hovered his lips over his drink simply stated that he wanted Viktor and Georgi to be comfortable during their sleep.

Viktor added some tea leaves to his drink and swished his mug around. “Yuuri, there’s more than enough room for you too.”

_ “It’s better if I--” _

“Look, dynamics don’t matter to me.” Viktor nudged Yuuri softly with his elbow, a bit of smile riding over his lips. “Nor does rank. Knowing that you’re warm and comfortable means more to me than if we split because of obligations.”

Yuuri seemed taken back by the sudden informalities on Viktor’s part, but he took Viktor’s words in mind when he finished his drink and offered to hand the last mug to Georgi. After the exchange, a tinge of warmth brushed both of them because it felt okay to loosen their walls.

And the next three days passed by in a blur without a hitch. Yuuri felt more comfortable sleeping in the carriage at night, and Georgi welcomed him in with open arms and they chatted for a good hour about rosemary and some other spicy herbs that Viktor may’ve smelled once, but he really paid attention when Yuuri laughed or smiled or showed his little notebook of herbs to an ecstatic Georgi. Viktor grew a tiny bit closer to Yuuri’s intimidating horse. After being watched by a pair of beady eyes, Viktor decided to his introduce himself on the second day and he shook Vicchan’s hoof. Granted, Vicchan became more tolerant of the Omega because he was Makkachin’s master, but there was a mutual understanding between both... _ gentlemen  _ to the eyes of their affections.

And during the past three days, Georgi kept a running tally on a slip of paper in his breast pocket as he watched Viktor and Yuuri slowly grow closer. The closeness was not anything too exciting to write home to Mrs. and Mr. Nikiforov, but the closeness was something that Georgi had never seen before from Viktor. Every touch and laugh felt so natural when Viktor huddled close to Yuuri when they drove the carriage together, and Georgi may’ve had his face pressed against the driver’s window and prayed that neither of them turned around to see his face against the glass.

Sometimes, Yuuri murmured something softly in Japanese when Viktor gazed up and down at the mountain ridges along their Norwegian path. Sometimes, Viktor would pluck a twig from the overhanging trees and place it behind hear Yuuri’s ear, claiming that a flower would grow there come Spring. Even though it wasn’t true, Yuuri played along and wondered if a cherry blossom would spring up. Prompting Viktor to ask what a cherry blossom was, and Yuuri wasn’t sure how to describe it.

Watching him try was entertaining, and Viktor helped fill in the words that Yuuri didn’t remember in English. Bit of a heartwarming moment, and Georgi felt blessed when he tallied the moment down and tucked the scores back into his breast pocket.

On their final night of travel, Georgi drove the carriage as the quintet of horses and dynamics crossed into civilization. They reached Norway with a new appreciation for the cold and sculpted landforms along the way, and Georgi drove carefully through the downtrodden roads of the first town. Sludge mixed with spilled wine reeked the streets with desperation.

So much so that Georgi crossed his fingers behind his back, and Yuuri noticed it through the driver’s window. He got out from the carriage and sat next to Georgi. His Alpha scent mixed with Georgi’s Beta one for a stronger wall between them and the outside.

The town was eerily gray and quiet. A few faces appeared from the windows or behind doors, but Yuuri and Georgi gave them no attention.

Until Georgi parked the carriage in front of a pub and mentioned that they should at least refuel for now and continue traveling later. Georgi went into the pub first to “scout the area”, and Yuuri hoped that he was going to be okay. For the meantime, Yuuri re-entered the carriage to notify Viktor of the situation.

Yuuri pressed his forehead against the carriage window and peered into the pub. Eyeing the ruffians and the sketchy characters that showed no business in hiding their indecency. He was about to turn and warn Viktor before he caught sight of the man unbuttoning the front of his two-pieced uniform!

Yuuri drew the curtains over the windows and stood awkwardly in front of it to hide the shape of Viktor’s silhouette when the latter peeled out from his jacket and tossed it onto the floor. Such a flourish that one would only find in a private chamber, but Viktor was doing it right here. Right in front of Yuuri as steam billowed out from the Alpha’s ears when he sheepishly averted his gaze out of respect.

His spectacles slipped from his nose and fell onto the floor, along with something else.

“Mr. Nik...” The comment died down Yuuri’s throat when he heard a gentle  _ shush. _

Viktor had hovered an innocent finger over Yuuri’s lips.  _ “Just call me Viktor.”  _ The peppermint wafting off from Viktor’s scent glands tried to twist Yuuri’s head so that he would face the Omega, but the small voice of rationality in Yuuri’s head told him to stay strong. This wasn’t intentional.  _ None  _ of  _ this  _ was.

But none of these thoughts helped Yuuri when he lifted his gaze and squinted at the blurry outline of his nearly-disrobed traveling partner. Emphasize on  _ traveling  _ because Yuuri wouldn’t know how else to cope with this situation. Viktor seemed rather oblivious to the implicit charms that he sent to Yuuri’s way, or maybe it was part of the charm to not acknowledge the affect. Either way, if Yuuri didn’t have his guard up before, he had it up now when Viktor pulled on a more casual outfit than and plucked Yuuri’s spectacles from the floor.

Bending his torso all the way down and caught the frame of Yuuri’s spectacles with a sly finger before coming up and extinguishing the last of Yuuri’s breath.

Yuuri feebly reached for them, but his hand never touched the frame. Viktor brushed his hair behind his ear and slipped the spectacles over Yuuri’s face.

_ “The least I can do for surprising you earlier.”  _ There were different notes in Viktor’s voice, almost flirtatious in nature. As if Viktor was a peacock in a cage, and his feathers were spread open like a book for Yuuri to admire. Not that Viktor was a personal library or a collection, but because Yuuri tried to make sense of what was happening to him.

The least Yuuri could do was sit down after pressing his back against the window for a good few minutes. Rubbing his scent glands to calm them down, Yuuri adjusted his spectacles while Viktor folded his old clothes neatly and hid them in a secret compartment under a carriage seat.

He had changed so that people wouldn’t guess that he came from old money. A worthwhile tactic with brilliant results, but the execution didn’t have to throb Yuuri in more ways than one while he was protecting Viktor’s dignity. It was almost as if Viktor had forgotten who was in the carriage with him and under different circumstances, Yuuri could’ve viewed it as trust.

But Yuuri’s job wasn’t done yet when he extended a few fingers and smoothed out Viktor’s hair. Viktor lowered his head so that Yuuri could reach comfortably, and the Alpha smoothed a few strands.

“Do I look normal?” Viktor whispered.

“As normal as a Nikiforov can be,” Yuuri whispered back.  _ “I’m the only one who knows who you really are.” _

Viktor raised his head and extended a welcoming hand for for his traveling to hold.

“Who am I to you, Yuuri?”

Yuuri took him by the hand. “You’re Viktor, _ of course.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +Thank you for enjoying this story and for sticking with me during my untimely hiatus/recovery-mode   
>  +People have been inspired by some of my works lately and they made little presents, and that was pretty sweet   
>  +Keep an eye out on my tumblr blog (@yuuris-piano) because I’m participating in  [ #yuuribirthdayweek ](https://yuuris-piano.tumblr.com/post/167771645511/prompt-1-early-years-in-skating-the-rink-was-the) , you’ll find some sweet audios to listen to
> 
> +UP NEXT:  _ What happens to our intrepid trio at the Norwegian pub? Will strangers recognize Viktor? Will Georgi find love? Will Yuuri’s protective nature get the best of him? Will Vicchan share a carrot with Makkachin?!?!? _


	9. Fin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's better to end this now than let this hurt us both."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure if it’s out of displeasure or pleasure--probably the latter--I’m discontinuing this story. You can scoff or roll your eyes or call me a  _ failure  _ for being one of millions that discontinue a story because of “excuses”, that’s your call. However, I think it’s better this way. If the author is not interested in updating a work anymore, what’s the point in reading updates that are lackluster and that leave a poor taste in your mouth. It isn’t right for the author nor the audience but at the very least, there will be closure.
> 
> Below, I’ve made a rough outline of how they story would’ve went if I continued.

_ If the “traveling arc” never happened and if the story continued right after Chapter 3... _

+Mrs. Nikiforov would regularly schedule in “play-dates” where Yuuri comes to visit the Nikiforov estate

+Over the year, Yuuri and Viktor bond over little activities such as: tending the horses, browsing through the estate’s libraries, visiting the nearby town, learning about each other’s cultures, and other miscellaneous activities that they could do so that both are comfortable with each other. Each event would’ve been in its own chapter to highlight the time and effort that it takes to grow trust with a stranger and eventually become friends

+Sometimes, Yuuri brings work with him to the Nikiforov estate and makes perfumes for his clients, so Viktor helps out and decides that he wants to work as Yuuri’s apprecentince. Viktor had spent the last 4 years of his life training his nose so being a perfume-brewer would be the best profession for him.

+Mrs. and Mr. Nikiforov support Viktor in his dream because he’s found his calling in life, and it’s learned Mrs. Nikiforov was removed from the main family years ago after she married her husband. Because Mrs. Nikiforov didn’t agree with the ideologies of the main family nor their work ethic, she branched off and made a name for herself instead of relying on the family’s name.

+Mr. Nikiforov was the son of a baker so when he and his wife began making money to support to support themselves, they worked at the bakery in town. Their fortune would soon grow as servants from the main family left in search for a better life, and Mrs. Nikiforov takes them under her wing and they begin to build the estate from the ground-up. Everyone pitching a hand in the creation until five years later, it’s finished. The estate isn’t as grand or as big or as fancy as the main family’s, but it’s a cozy home that can accommodate all of them and a child. So after the first year since the estate was built, Viktor was born.

+(those two bullets above are in their own separate chapters to establish how far Mrs. and Mr. Nikiforov have come to ensure that their future and that their child would have an easier life than them. Viktor would grow with financial stability--through Mrs. Nikiforov’s efforts--and he would be more open-minded and affable than his cousins in the main family--through everyone’s combined efforts)

+The past has shaped Viktor into the person he is today, and he wants to do his part in supporting Yuuri. Slow-burn romance occurs for another few years because whenever Yuuri or Viktor want to bring the topic up, they decided to wait a little longer. Until one day, Viktor comes to Yuuri’s place of work and he sees Yuuri sitting at a table with some candles and food for a romantic-esque evening. Where at the end, Yuuri asks for Viktor’s hand in marriage with a ring he had bought from the money he had earned for the past three years, with Viktor as his helper.

+The story ends with their marriage before an altar and Viktor comments how he used to be afraid of marriage because he thought he would lose himself. But when he looks into Yuuri’s eyes and sees the love reflected back to him, Viktor is excited for what the future has in store.

  
  


_ If the story picked up right after the last chapter _

+There would’ve been a lot of fight scenes:  _ from a bar brawl, to a swordfight, and it would have a 007-esque vibe and an assassin’s background(?) that would derail the story and make this an action/adventure with a prosecutor involved _

+(And because I wrote this scene beforehand, I’m posting it here)

* * *

 

Up the marble steps, with a velvet felt to hold onto, Seung-Gil crossed the first landing and observed the chiseled tales of war adorned on the walls. Great feats such as the  _ Battle of... _ and the  _ War of... _ and Seung-Gil leaned next to a granite painting of a woman on horseback with a chariot running over her enemy. He extended his left hand and shaped his fingers just so that it appeared he had an invisible box within his grasp. With his other hand, Seung-Gil held up his index and middle to create  _ V.  _ He tilted his head to the side and pretended that he pressed a button after glancing around, absolutely sure that no one would stumble onto the first landing and see him like  _ this. _

Straightening himself and his thick coat, Seung-Gil wandered aimlessly down a hall. Passing by a row of windows that poured in light from a simple morning. In front of the Norwegian estate stood a garden of red and purple, mixed with yellow and green for a heartwarming setting. However, the warmth of the flowers barely made an indent on the estate, itself, because of its dreary navy color and the vertical lengths that it took to tower over the sparse countryside and its mingling of pine and needle trees. This estate stood like a royal, though it had done nothing to deserve such a title.  _ Of course, these thoughts were operated without the Duchess in mind. _

There were two Duchesses that lived in the estate, along with their very single son, so would that make the Duchess-Duchess the Head Duchess or would she still be referred to as the Duchess, regardless? Seung-Gil’s eyebrows creased.

Now while Seung-Gil thought and pondered on how he should address the Head of the household, he walked past a burly suit of armor. Strong like an Alpha during a rut because there was an unnecessary shield fastened over the waist, and the bicep-region bulged out as if the suit wearer had to tie rocks to their arms to be able to wear this. Across the torso was a smudge, as if someone ran a finger over the armor and didn’t wipe afterwards. Seung-Gil blew his breath over the stain and wiped it off with his handkerchief.

_ Squeak squeak.  _ Oh, the sound of cleaning has never sounded much like a choir to Seung-Gil’s ears than now. Folding his handkerchief and tucking it behind his breast pocket, the Beta’s ears perked up when he heard the distinct chime of a dog’s bell. Running down the hall with a  _ pitter patter  _ was a sheep dog with a bell between in its teeth, and it sniffed Seung-Gil’s shoes before dropping its gift next to his feet. Seung-Gil glanced around again. No one was around.  _ No one. _

He knelt and raised his hand. His furry companion booped his hand with its nose, and Seung-Gil embraced the dog with tender arms. Until Seung-Gil heard footsteps and he had to sadly part from the sheep dog when it scurried off and ran into the arms of its master. A sharp, Duchess of Norway with the eyes of a predator and her son was her lone wolf.

_ “Your Graces…”  _ Seung-Gil bowed his head, resting his right hand over his heart when the Duchess and her son passed by. As if they didn’t hear him and for the time-being, that’s all Seung-Gil could ask for as a foreign ambassador for a trade that’ll never happen.

* * *

 

+ _ Maybe Seung-Gil would’ve been the main character at this point as he watches the chaos happening around him and wondering why _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Closing thoughts? I wish I didn’t incorporate omegaverse in here. This could’ve been a pretty normal story, and adding an omegaverse-element was a nail of discomfort for me. I wishing I didn’t add the “traveling arc” because I just wanted to focus the story near the Nikiforov estate. The “traveling arc” only existed because I was afraid that the story would be called boring if I didn’t move things along (an understandable fear from another omegaverse I did earlier this year, and I panicked). I wish I could’ve stayed within the Nikiforov estate so that I can develop the familial and friendly-bonds between characters than bring in outside sources.
> 
> But to close this off officially, there were some aspects that I did enjoy while writing this fic. I loved how I wrote for Mr. and Mrs. Nikiforov and their bond towards Viktor. I really enjoyed the Chris and Viktor moment at the beginning of the last chapter because it was a warmth that motivated me to continue writing. I enjoyed how I wrote for Seung-Gil and that he can be a friendly, comedic person and not as stiff as fanon portrays him as.
> 
> I understand if many of you discontinue reading my other works because of low quality, or if you spread rumors that no one should invest time into my written works. Some will inevitably talk behind my back about this and fabricate lies, but I’ll still write and post on AO3 because when negativity occurs, you go around it so it doesn’t chain you back from what you enjoy doing. I won’t write another omegaverse for a long time because the AU triggers my paranoia now, but I’ll be posting works that I’m proud of instead of stories that only serve to appease the masses.
> 
> Signing off.


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